Bursting Into Life
by 3.1415926535897932384626433383
Summary: "Get the door!" she shouts, and Tina stares at her, confused. "Now, Tina! The door!" Newt Scamander is standing there in the doorway, his face pale and sweay. "...Tina... didn't know where else to go... my case..." And his eyes roll back into his head, his knees buckle as he pitches forward, suitcase dropping to the ground with a thud.
1. Chapter 1

It's an ordinary evening. Nothing irregular about it. Tina gets home at six, just like she always does, and Queenie, who gets off far sooner, has dinner ready on the table. A completely ordinary evening.

Over dinner they talk, just as they always do. Queenie talks about the latest gossip, all the interesting things she heard that day because who pays her any mind, really? Not many people. Tina tells her about the latest in the magical criminal force - the day was slow, not much going on, and the only thing she did that involved leaving the building was to deliver the paperwork she'd spent the day catching up on. If there was one thing she hadn't missed about being an Auror, it was the obscene amount of paperwork that came with every little happening!

And then Queenie sits bolt upright, her eyes wide.

"Get the door!" she shouts, and Tina stares at her, confused. "Now, Tina! The door!" She's making her way through the apartment as quickly as she can, but she had been behind the table in the kitchen and Tina is sitting on the couch in the living room and she's so much closer. And she finally does it. She dashes over to the door and yanks it open, her sense of urgency drawn from her sister's, and she sees -

Newt Scamander is standing there in the doorway, his face pale and swaying where he stands. A bright sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he speaks. "...Tina... didn't know where else to go... my case..." And his eyes roll back into his head, his knees buckle as he pitches forward, suitcase dropping to the ground with a thud. Tina only just manages to catch him, and she struggles with the weight for a moment - he's inches taller and pounds heavier than she is, and frankly it's a miracle that she manages to catch him at all, but she can't hold him much longer - and then Queenie is there, helping her hold Newt up. Between the two of them they manage to bring him over to the couch, where they take off his coat - he's obviously got a fever - and lay him down.

The case rattles suddenly, and Tina is reminded of what had happened the last time things got out of that bag. "Incarcerous," she mutters, flicking her wand at the case. Magically reinforced ropes appear from thin air and wrap themselves tightly around the case.

Queenie drops into the armchair, turning to look at Tina.

"What do we do now?" she asks. Tina is silent for a minute.

"I guess... we wait for him to wake back up," she says.

They check Newt over, looking to see if he's okay, and he isn't. Running down his left leg is a huge gash. The veins around it are swollen and dark, and whatever gave him that cut must have been venomous, or else followed it up with a curse. Tina isn't quite sure whether this is a spell - inflicted wound or an animal-inflicted one, and she doesn't want to spend too much time looking at it. There's a reason she didn't become a mediwizard. She treats it as best she can, cleaning it out and rubbing various magical herbs into it, finally finishing it off with essence of dittany. It's expensive, she knows, but this is a nasty wound.

The case rattles again, and her eyes flick to it. It still appears well contained, though, so she goes back to what she's doing, wrapping the gash up with proper bandages.

Newt still isn't awake when they go to bed, which is a worrying sign, but not altogether unexpected. He'll need time and heat to break that fever, and if he isn't awake in the morning, then he'll need medical care that she can't provide and they'll have to take him to the hospital. Tina grimaces at the thought - a hospital demands gold, and gold is not something that they have on hand abundantly.

Worrying about something, though, just means you suffer twice instead of once, so she puts it out of her mind and turns out the light.


	2. Chapter 2

Tina wakes up first, before anyone in the apartment has even started to stir. She wakes up with a sense of urgency, and she's not sure why. And then she remembers, and it hits her like the ceiling fell in on her - Newt Scamander, hurt bad and laying in the other room on her couch. She clenches her jaw for a moment, and then she gets up and faces the day.

She decides to make breakfast before she wakes Queenie up. Usually her sister does almost all of the cooking, because she's far better with food then Tina is, but she so rarely gets to surprise her sister and she'll be glad to see her face when she wakes up to bacon and eggs, which, to be honest, is really the only thing Tina can make with a degree of success. She decides, too, that if Newt isn't awake by the time that she finishes she'll wake him up (if you can, says a voice in the back of her mind, but she ignores that).

To her relief he stirs just as she starts making up the three plates. Maybe it's the smell of eggs fresh from the pan that wakes him, or, more probably, the sounds of the pans clattering and the bacon sizzling - she doesn't care. She's just glad he's awake.

And then he rolls over, slowly, painfully, and speaks. It's unintelligible, of course.

"What was that?" she asks him, coming over to the couch so she can hear him better.

"My... my case..." he mutters.

"I've got it right here, don't worry," she says. "It's perfectly secure."

"Credence...?" is what it sounds like he says, and that makes no sense.

"Sorry?" she asks.

"Credence Barebone... how is he?" he says, his voice not as clouded by sleep anymore but still fuzzy.

"Credence Barebone?" she repeats. "Isn't that the name of the obscurial from - "

"What?" he says, sitting up, his voice sharp and fully awake all of a sudden.

"Mr Scamander, I insist that you lay back down, you're seriously injured, and -"

"You haven't opened my case?" he demands, and she shakes her head. Immediately he swings his legs over the edge of the couch and tries to stand up, but as soon as he places weight in the injured leg it collapses beneath him and he falls back onto the couch with a cry.

"Newt! Lay back down! You are sick, you are injured, you shouldn't even be sitting up right now, much less standing and walking and doing who knows what. Lay. Back. Down!" Tina says, and he complies, at least for the moment, but he still has a panicked look in his eye.

"I need to get into my case," he says. "Right now."

"Queenie and I can feed your animals for you. You need to rest -"

"You don't understand - it's not my beasts, it's more important than that, I need to get to my case right now!" She glares at him, irritated at being interrupted for the third time in less than three minutes.

"What could possibly be so important that you want to risk your life by climbing down a ladder on a leg you can't even stand on for it?" she asks him.

"Credence Barebone has been locked in that case for at least twelve hours with no idea why in an incredibly fragile mental state. I need to get down there, now," he says. "Right now!"

She gapes at him, shocked. "Credence Barebone... is dead," she says after a moment, but it's as much a question as a statement, and he shakes his head.

"Credence Barebone is alive," he says. "Believe me in saying that I need to get down there immediately. Please."

"O...kay," she says. "Let me wake Queenie up. We can probably work together and levitate you down there." Newt doesn't smile, but his shoulders relax a little as she stands up.

Tina climbs into the case first, looking around the small room. The door is shut, and everything looks about the same as she remembers it. There's no sign of Credence.

Queenie, with some difficulty, levitates Newt near enough to the case that Tina can see him and help to bring him down. He's surprisingly heavy, for all that he looks like a bowtruckle, all long and thin. Once he's settled in a chair, Queenie follows him into the case.

The issue of Newt's mobility, or lack thereof, is a problem. Finally Newt clenches his jaw and directs Queenie in making a potion that he chugs, pulling a face immediately after.

"What did that do?" Tina asks.

"It'll help with the pain, numb his leg enough that he'll be able to walk on it for an hour or so," Queenie answers.

"Walk on it?" Tina splutters. "He can't walk on it for an hour! He'll tear it open, make it worse-"

"If you have a better idea, I'm open," Newt says grimly. Tina sighs and wishes she did.

"Can I ask, before we go in, exactly what happened?" she asks. Newt glances at Queenie, then answers her.

"The short answer is that Credence - had a major panic attack, and he lost control, and... possibly may have accidentally destroyed several monoliths, which resulted in... well, my leg." Tina stares at him for a minute, then decides that this is not the time to say what she has in mind. "By the way, I'll still need your help walking." She nods.

They don't find Credence for almost twenty minutes. He's in the back of the case, in the forest biome, curled up in the dark behind a huge, mossy boulder, and they almost don't see him.

"Let me go alone from here," Newt whispers softly. He can walk on his own, just barely, but it's clear to see that he's relieved to sit down against the rock and let the ground hold his leg up. They can't hear what he's saying, but after a minute he waves them over, slowly, and gently.

"-it's not your fault, you can't control a panic attack," they can hear him saying as they approach. "And nothing that was broken can't be fixed. I've repaired the stones, and my leg will heal up in no time and be as good as new. It's okay, it will all be okay."

How can we help? Tina mouths when he looks up. Just be here, he mouths back.

"I've brought us to New York. Do you remember Tina? You met her in the subway station, she helped you as well as she could. She's here, she and her sister, and we just want to help. It's not your fault, Credence, and I swear it will be okay," he says. Tina realizes that she can hear Credence breathing, even though his face is buried in his hands.

"Credence," says Queenie. Newt looks up, but doesn't dissuade her. She always knows what to say. "We aren't going anywhere. And neither are you. Accidents happen, honey, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to be here." Credence doesn't say anything, but slowly he seems to calm down after a few minutes. Newt doesn't say anything either, but he gives Queenie a grateful glance.

A flash of jealousy hits Tina for a moment, but she ignores it and resolves to feel things later. This is not the time.

After a few minutes, Newt puts a hand on Credence's shoulder.

"Do you want to come back into the apartment with us?" he asks. Then, somewhat hesitant, as though he's unsure that this is the right thing to say, "Or if you prefer, we can leave you alone." He glances at Queenie and she nods, and Tina feels that flash of jealousy again.

After a minute, Credence whispers "I... want to come with you." Newt stands, and Queenie helps Credence stand too. He seems nearly as unsteady as Newt is.


	3. Chapter 3

Queenie offers Credence a bed, but he prefers to stay near Newt, so they drag the armchair over to Newt's couch, where Tina has forced him to lie on threat of death, and he sits there tensely staring at the floor and still refusing to speak. Not that that's really a problem, as long as they have Queenie, but it's the reasons behind it that have them all worried. And besides, Queenie has work.

She scarfs the breakfast Tina made for her down, since all the extra time that they'd had to savor the meal had been used up by the morning's events, and asks Tina if she'll walk her down. Tina, of course, is calling in sick, just for today, but there are still bills to pay and they really can't afford for both of them to take time off - especially when they have two houseguests for who knows how long.

As soon as they leave the apartment, Queenie starts talking.

"Tina, I'm worried about Credence. He's... he's in trouble. I don't just mean Grindelwald either, he really feels terrible about what he did to Newt and he's beating himself up over it, and, well, I'll leave the specifics to you to consider, but be gentle with him. And don't - don't be resentful to him for it - I know what you're thinking, Tina, don't give me that look!"

"Did you see his leg?" Tina asks. "I'm sure Newt himself is resentful - "

"He's not, he knows it was an accident. And if he can let it go then you should too!" Tina isn't buying it, and Queenie thinks for a moment. "Look, you remember when I used to get those panic attacks right after we moved into the city, because of all the people and the thinking and the pain all around me?" Tina nods, still wary. "Well, you wouldn't say that that was my fault, would you?" she asks.

"It's not the same thing," Tina says. "You didn't cause mass destruction or rip a gash into my leg or knock over a huge - "

"Yes, I did. Remember the one I had in the kitchen, the one where I knocked all of those dishes off of the counter? It's the exact same thing, except bigger." Tina bites her lip, considering it. Maybe. At the least, she supposes she could hold off judgement until she knows what happened, exactly. "That's my sister, right there," Queenie says with a grin. "Now, I've gotta go to work - you want me to tell your boss you're down with the flu, right?"

"Thanks, Queenie," Tina says, and they part ways.

This one is super short, whoops. It is incredibly difficult to write Queenie! I'm pretty sure she's crazy ooc, so sorry about that, Queenie lovers of the world :P I didn't get a very good feel for her when I watched the movie and I don't think I'll be able to see it again until it comes out on DVD. Blech.

Also, thank you so much to everyone who commented, I'm really amazed by the reception this is getting! Just saying, comments are lifeblood, lol. Y'all are the best.


	4. Chapter 4

Just before she opens it, Tina realizes that she can just make out what's being said behind the unfortunately thin door. She doesn't mean to eavesdrop, of course - definitely not - but it would be rude, after all, to interrupt them when they sound so intent... and although she really does feel bad about it, she waits outside the door for a minute before coming back in.

It's not like she's trying to listen, anyways. She can't help it.

"-but what if it happens again? What if I lose control again, and - what if I can't control it?" whispers a low voice she's never heard before that must be Credence. His voice sounds like it's close to breaking. "What if this happens again?"

"It will," says Newt just as quietly, but calmer and more soothing than distressed. "I know you'll lose control again, Credence, but that's okay."

"And I - when I hurt you - what if I, I - what if you get hurt worse than this?" says Credence.

"Then we do the same thing we're doing now. We rely on our friends and family to help, and we get through it." There's a pause. "We get through it. Accidents happen. And that's ok, as long as we do something about it. You'll learn to control it eventually - it will take time, but you'll be okay. We'll both be okay. This isn't how it will be forever."

Tina flushes, partially embarassed (and maybe a little guilty) at having overheard something so private, and a little bit irritated that Newt, who had his leg gashed open, who is the one injured on the couch, who is obviously taking care of this boy for nothing - and then she feels bad. She knows she shouldn't resent him. Queenie said it, Newt said it, it isn't Credence's fault, really. And besides, she reminds herself, Newt isn't the only one in that room who has had stripes cut into him. This is a little bit ridiculous.

She decides she's heard enough. She can't eavesdrop anymore. Tina puts on a stern, emotionless face and opens the door.

Credence glances up at her when she enters the room, and she gets a look into his eyes. They're dark, almost black, and deep, but with a storm behind them. It's like looking up during a snowstorm - that dense, seemingly endless black sky, but if you look up far enough, you can see the angry greys. They're red-rimmed too, which is maybe not a good thing, but - before she can get a better look and perhaps figure out what it means, the way he looks, wild and desperate and above all idark,/i he looks back down towards the ground and she loses whatever it was she was thinking.

Behind him on the couch lies Newt, also looking at her, and she can't glance into his eyes. She knows them well already, and she's worried about what he'll see if he looks into hers, so she looks away.

"Let's see your wound this morning, Mr. Scamander," she says; it's been a moment of quiet thinking and she's eager to bring in some sound before it becomes silent and awkward. She comes over to the couch to see his leg. "We should have checked it as soon as you woke up this morning, frankly, and I can't believe that that wasn't the first thing I did."

"You were a bit busy," Newt pointed out.

"All the same," she says, but there's a hint of a smile in her voice. The gash looks approximately the same as it had before; less raw, much less fresh. She pours a little more of the emergency dittany into it (she's nearly out), rewraps it with fresh bandages, and finally gives Newt his breakfast, as well as giving Credence her share. She can make do on toast and maybe a hard boiled egg, if there are any left. Besides, it looks like Credence could use it. He's extremely thin.

They all sit for a few minutes in silence, each considering their respective concerns and worries, until Newt speaks up.

"Credence, what are the chances that you fed all the animals last night?" Credence shakes his head with the smallest of movements, not meeting his eye. Although that seems to be normal. Relatively. "Not to worry, then. We'll give them a little extra this morning. I'm sure they're quite hungry and I'd hate to deny them breakfast. Can you handle being their caretaker today? I can write down what to give each one, if that would help." To Tina, he says "Credence has been helping me these last few weeks. He's gotten remarkably good at it and the animals all know him pretty well."

Credence still doesn't lift his head, but Tina thinks she might have seen the smallest of smiles lift just the corner of his mouth.

"I can help you, Credence, if you need," Tina offers. Newt smiles, and his smile lights up the room, and Tina feels a bit of a glow in her chest - but she pushes it back down. iReally, this is not the time,/i she says sternly to herself.

"That would be excellent, if he doesn't mind. It's a big chore. Credence?" Credence doesn't reply, but he looks up and he nods a bit.

"I'm glad to help. How many animals do you have in there?" she asks.

"Species of animals or individual creatures?" Newt asks.

"Individual creatures," she says. He looks up to the ceiling, thinking for a minute.

"Oh... between forty-five and sixty right now," he says. Tina can only stare.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that evening, when Queenie was home, and they had had dinner, Credence was asleep in his chair, having again refused the spare bed. They had elected not to move Newt from his couch yet - Tina thought it would probably be fine, but better safe than sorry, and besides, she was pretty sure that Newt was lying about how badly it hurt.

Queenie brought over a tray of cocoas for each of them and sat down on the couch by Newt. Quietly, they sipped their drinks, just reflecting on the day and the events leading up to it until Tina broke the silence.

"So what happened, exactly, if you don't mind my asking?" Tina said, half-whispering so as not to wake Credence up.

"Well," says Newt. "We were in Wisconsin, stalking a re'em - big golden ox-looking thing, very rare - they've all but died out actually, so I was hoping to... anyways, we were in Wisconsin, and we had just found what we were looking for. ...

 _"Looook at you," Newt crooned, watching the great golden beast. It was still grazing fifty feet away where it had been for quite a while, nothing at all exciting in Credence's opinion. Admittedly it had been extremely interesting at first, but after the fourth hour, Credence was a little bored. Not that he would say so, of course. Newt was obviously having the time of his life and he didn't want to be rude._

 _After a little while, Newt turned around to face Credence._

 _"Listen, I'm going to go up a little closer," he whispered. "I'm both writing and illustrating for my book, you know, and I want to get a better look. This could be the last time we get a chance to see this fellow in our lifetime. D'you want to come? You don't have to if you don't want to." Credence bit his lip, not looking up at him. This was one of the larger creatures he had seen so far - it had to be ten feet tall - and getting closer was the last thing that he wanted to do. But he didn't want to ruin it for Newt, and make him realize how terrible Credence was with animals, and then he would know and he wouldn't want him to be in the case any more and he would make him leave and Credence would be all alone and he -_

 _"Credence," Newt said with concern. "Credence, don't worry, it will be fine, okay? You stay here and I'll go up. I'll be right back, okay? I'll be back in half an hour. You stay here, okay?" Credence nodded, took a breath. Half an hour, and Credence could stay here. It would be fine._

 _When he glanced up, Newt had disappeared._

 _Newt scooted around through the foliage. The re'em had been in that clearing for almost two hours now, minding its own business, grazing away at the long grasses, and this was the ideal opportunity to get a little closer while the creature was peaceful and busy. He felt a qualm about leaving Credence alone, but it was only for half an hour, and it really might be the last chance he got to observe a re'em for a very long time, especially in such an ideal situation, and it would be fine, he was sure._

 _The re'em didn't notice him coming, and he came up to the very edge of the trees, within twenty-five feet of where Newt was standing. He pulled a sketchbook and some charcoals out of his pocket, and with light, quick lines, began to draw the re'em._

 _True to his word, he was back to where he'd left Credence in half an hour, perhaps a little less. He had gotten several very good drawings - you couldn't photograph magical creatures, the flash of the camera would let them know you were there and often terrify them, poor beings - and he'd been able to look at it quite closely without it knowing._

 _Credence hadn't moved from where he'd left him, not even a few feet, it looked like. He was facing away from Newt, so Newt was careful to snap a few twigs beneath his foot, not approaching too quietly, so as not to scare the boy._

 _"Credence! I got incredibly close to him, and he didn't have any idea I was there. You see that cop of bushes over there, where the trees are especially thick? I was right there. You should see the sketches I got - the details I could see from so close were absolutely stunning." He paused to take a breath. Credence didn't reply, didn't even move. "Credence? Are you all right?" No acknowledgement. Oh dear._

 _"Credence, would you mind answering me, please, so that I know you're okay?" Newt said, worried now. This time, when he didn't respond, Newt reached a hand out and placed it on his shoulder. Credence flinched violently, turning his head around so fast that he must have gotten whiplash. He was breathing heavily, and his pupils were dilated so far that his irises were almost completely black, dark dots of color on his shining white eyes. Panic attack, thought Newt grimly._

 _He moved towards Credence, just a step, and the boy scooted backwards hastily, nearly falling over in his haste to move away. He didn't seem to recognize Newt at all. Newt looked away, breaking eye contact like he would for a creature who didn't know him and who felt threatened._

 _"Credence, it's all right," he said quietly. "Just breathe. It's me, it's Newt Scamander, do you remember me?" Credence had started to emit the black smoke that signified his obscurial. "It's Newt, Credence. You're safe, you're all right. Just breathe. It will be okay, I promise," he said, but neither the words nor the tone had any effect on Credence, who was now nearly all smoke. Newt held perfectly still._

 _Then Credence seemed to come back to himself for a moment, a sudden snap as the smoke rolled back into him. "Newt...?" he said._

 _The re'em picked that exact, extremely impractical moment to pick up her head and bellow. It wasn't a chilling sound, really, but it was sudden, and it startled Credence. Black smoke billowed out of him and rose up into the air in the span of a second. It hovered there for a moment, trembling, it looked like, then dove downwards and seemingly exploded through the forest, tearing up trees and bushes in its path. Newt swore under his breath, then grabbed his case and ran to follow it._

 _It wasn't difficult to follow, either. The path of destruction it left varied between being ten feet and perhaps forty feet wide, trees felled and the ground torn up everywhere. Quick as he might be, there was no way Newt could keep up with it on foot, so he used the same tactic he had used in New York weeks before, leaping by use of apparition from spot to spot. He was still behind, but it was much faster. The re'em was left behind, of course. Newt felt bad about leaving it alone after just giving it such a scare, but he really had more important things he had to tend to._

 _After a few long minutes, the obscurus began to slow, which was a relief for Newt, who was becoming quite tired. He apparated closer to where it was - too close, in fact - right in front of it, and suddenly he was swallowed up in a huge cloud of black ink, and he couldn't breathe, the only thing he could do was gasp for air as the panic overtook him too, desperate and scared and_ _ **hurt**_ _and he couldn't move, couldn't think -_

"What happened after that?" asks Queenie.

"I don't know," Newt says. "The next thing I remember is waking up this morning in this state. I'm guessing a tree fell on me, judging by the wound in my leg, and I must have calmed the obscurus down enough to resolidify back into our Credence and go into the case. And then, I suppose, I apparated to your doorstep."

"An incredibly stupid thing to do," Tina says, a little bit scolding. "You're lucky you didn't splinch yourself in the process."

"I did, actually," he says, smiling at her with that vague unconcerned smile. Ridiculous, how it makes him look, makes Tina - never mind that, she scolds herself. "Look." He holds up his right hand, which is missing several fingernails. Tina rolls her eyes at him.

"All's well that ends well," she says, somewhat sardonically. He doesn't reply.


	6. Chapter 6

" _Our last good plate, shattered," she said tonelessly. "What am I supposed to do with these shards?"_

 _He was shaking, his vision clouded with sleeplessness and terror._

" _I'm sorry, Ma, I'll clean it up—" He stumbled towards the broom cabinet, but an cold hand clasped his wrist in an iron grip._

" _With your hands, Credence. God expects penance from the wasteful."_

 _He bowed his head even further, and got on his knees, gathering the razor-sharp shards with trembling fingers, as she stood over him watching. Each piece dug a new scar into his hands, but they were too cold for him to feel much of anything. When he was done, the last pieces gathered up, he drew slowly to his feet. He knew what was coming._

" _Belt," she said simply. He couldn't look at her face. His hands numbly undid the buckle, and he followed her up the stairs, each step bringing him closer to his own hell.  
_  
Credence's head jerked up from the arm of the chair, so fast it gave him whiplash and cracked against the side of the chair. His chest was tight, so tight he felt as though his heart might stop - he couldn't breathe around the clot in his throat, he didn't know what it was but it felt like someone had stuffed an entire cobblestone down so tightly that no air could get through and he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, his hands stiffening and clenching into fists and he couldn't relax them, couldn't stop because he couldn't feel couldn't think couldn't breathe he had to stop he had to calm down or he was going to wake Newt and he would see him and know and he would think Credence was ungrateful, know he was horrible if he woke him up, useless, worthless, lazy,wasteful, he couldn't breathe, ungrateful ungrateful ungrateful he would know that Credence wasn't worth what Newt thought he was he couldn't he couldn't do it he -

With an effort, Credence yanked himself back to reality. He was teetering at the edge of letting the obscurus take over and that had to be avoided at all costs. He forced himself to close his mouth and stop gasping, taking in a stuttering breath through his nose and set his hands down flat in his lap. Eventually he managed to calm himself down some, enough that he could breathe and move and enough that his chest didn't feel like it was being squeezed by ropes and crushed inwards so hard that he couldn't swallow or take a breath and he was doing it again he was doing it again he had to calm down, had to breathe, force himself to take a slow breath in, one out, in, out, in, out - he would be fine. He was okay, he told himself, he would be okay and it was just a nightmare and he would be fine, just breathe, just breathe, breathe.

Newt lay asleep near him on the couch. A quick glance confirmed that Credence hadn't woken him up. He hadn't expected to, really, since as loud as his panic attacks were to him they were apparently extremely quiet from the outside, but he had to make sure.

Credence knew from long experience that he wasn't going to fall back asleep after that. He was fully on edge at the moment, hands trembling somewhat and chest still a bit tight, and he was completely and entirely wide awake. He didn't know what time it was, but a glance towards the window gave him an estimate of maybe 7am, maybe a little earlier. That was about normal for him. He rarely got more than six hours' sleep and they'd had a long night last night, not for any real reason, just that they had stayed up talking (listening, for Credence, mostly).

After a few minutes he supposed that he would go down into the case, where he wouldn't have to walk around on tiptoe and where he could be alone, and start taking care of the animals. He wasn't strong enough to do everything by himself, but there were plenty of jobs that he could do, including feeding the mooncalves and the bowtruckles.

As quietly as he could, he opened up the case and climbed down inside. He could relax a little more, breathe a little better inside, where it was more familiar and there wasn't so much of a chance that anyone would walk in all of a sudden or knock on the door or watch him.

Only, it wasn't empty. Tina was sitting just outside of the shack on a boulder off to the right, eyes shut and obviously enjoying the sunlight. Credence drew in a breath in surprise, tensed up again and withdrawn somewhat back into himself. Tina heard the intake of breath and turned back to look at him.

"Good morning, Credence," she said.

"Good morning," he said, forcing the words out of his mouth. He hated the way his voice sounded, refusing to make the tones and inflections quite right and squeaking weirdly at the end like he was a kid whose voice had just started to crack.

"I guess you came down here to get a head start on feeding Newt's creatures?" she asked him, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to say. He nodded his head, a sharp little jerk that made him blush - that had been too fast, too eager, what was that supposed to mean Credence that little jerk of your head she was watching you she'll think you're strange now she's watching you still -

"I already did all the ones I could do by myself," she said, and he was pulled back to earth. "But we could go ahead and do the others, they've probably been waiting jealously." She grinned at him and he nodded his head again. He thought maybe that his voice was broken, didn't think he could use it if he wanted to. That was what usually happened when he talked to people. It felt like there was a lump in his throat that he wasn't able to speak around. He used to try, stuttering over his words as he tried to shove around the lump, but the resulting k-k-k had never gone over particularly well and it had only been another thing that Ma would be irritated with him over, so he had stopped trying and just left it at nods and shakes of his head.

Tina stood up and went over to the big wooden wheelbarrow that sat by the shed near the door. He followed her into the shed, helping load it up with all of the different grains and meats and plants and feeds the animals ate. It took both of them to push it around when it was full. Fortunately they didn't have to wheel it far in between each place, and with every stop the wheelbarrow became distinctly lighter. Soon it was empty again, and they were finished.

"Mercy Lewis, I have no idea how Newt does that every day. Even with magic," Tina said to him after they came back. "Want to make some hot chocolate? I think there's some in the shed and I know there's a stove in there."

"Won't - don't we, don't we need to ask Newt if we can?" Credence said, spitting it out in surprise. It came out easily that time, talking, maybe because he didn't stop to think about what he would say and maybe because he felt a little more at ease after the familiar routines of feeding the beasts. He didn't know the reason, but he was amazed at how easily it came out.

"Newt won't mind, I'm sure," Tina said. "And if he's really concerned I'll replenish it with some of Queenie's cocoa. But I think it will be fine." He bit his lip, still a bit concerned, but he went along with it as Tina used her magic to make the cocoa inside of two minutes. He still wasn't used to seeing magic, not after weeks of watching Newt use it all the time. With Mr. Graves, he had thought that magic was a great, mysterious thing, only to be used for the most important things in life, and it was strange to see it used to carry bags of feed and heat up water to boiling and just mundane, day to day chores.

Tina set a mug down in front of him and sat down in the chair across from him, taking a long sip of her cocoa and sighing in pleasure at the sweet, hot drink. Credence took a sip of his mug too. Hot chocolate was new to him. The church had functioned mostly on donations, so there was never money to spare, and Credence was sure that even if there had been his mother would have condemned something as good as chocolate as wasteful and unnecessary. He made every sip count.

After a few minutes, when the hot chocolate was mostly gone, Tina spoke.

"Newt's healing pretty well, I think you'll be glad to hear," she said. "He should be up and walking again in a day or two, and maybe another day after that and we'll be able to let him come down into his case and help feed these animals himself!" She grinned, a lighthearted thing that almost made Credence smile back, the corners of his mouth twitching. No matter what anyone said, he still knew it was his fault that Newt had been hurt, all his fault that he couldn't walk or see his creatures, and he was glad to hear that Newt was getting better. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself, he knew, if he had crippled Newt, or, or killed him.

They were quiet for another minute, then Credence thought of Newt's admonition to him to try to make friends, try to get to know the Goldsteins who were taking such good care of them and letting them stay with them and feeding them at their own cost and he had to be grateful, say thank you, he didn't want to be ungrateful for their kindness, didn't want them to know what he really was - he took a breath and cast around for something to say.

Carefully he prepared the words in his mind, readying himself to speak them, to talk and make conversation, preparing his throat and tongue and lips to speak so that it would be as smooth and as clear as it could be.

"So, w-what… what w-w-wakes you up at this hour?" he said, blurting it out and then blushing as she turned her gaze towards him, he could hear his voice over and over playing in his head, another squeak near the end where it got away from him and he knew it sounded awful and he hated hated hated the way his voice sounded and he could feel the red creeping up his cheeks. He ducked his head in embarrassment, looking away from her mug and down towards the floor as she spoke.

"Oh…" she said, thinking about it for a moment. "I don't know, really. Sometimes I just wake up early. It's nice, not having to get ready for work at top speed, being able to just sit here and enjoy the sun and the peace and quiet." He nodded. "How about you?" He tensed up immediately, remembering his nightmare, Mary Lou standing over him, he was worthless, a mess, breaking the last nice thing they had dropping it to shatter on the floor and she had to take a penance for him because that's what sinners do is serve a penance he had to -

"You don't have to answer," she said, noticing him freeze. "It's okay if it's private, I understand."

"No, I j-, just had a nightmare, it's alright," he said. She nodded.

"I understand. I used to get them too, terrible nightmares that I woke up screaming from…" she trailed off, remembering, her face darkening. "Do you have them often?"

"Almost every night," he said, proud that there wasn't a single stutter there, that it went off well almost without even catching in his throat that time. They were quiet for a while, until Tina drained her mug.

"If you ever need someone, late at night or anything, and you don't want to wake Newt, you can wake me up," she said. "If you need to talk about it, or you just want to sit in silence and drink some cocoa and not be alone, you can come to me if you want. I don't mind."

Credence didn't know what he was supposed to say, wasn't sure what he wanted to say even, but… maybe, he thought, maybe he would take her up on that some time. Probably not, but…

maybe.

###########

Aw yis, Credence/Tina bonding and a tiny hint of character development! and another panic attack. I'm beginning to think that writing my favorite characters having panic attacks is my secret mechanism for coping with my own haha.

Many points go to ottertrashpalace on AO3, who wrote the dream part of this chapter and graciously allowed me to use it in this story (it's borrowed from their story Hurry Home, if anyone is wondering). Thanks, bruh, it's much appreciated!


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